


All Our Tomorrows

by littlesue54



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:36:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesue54/pseuds/littlesue54
Summary: Here is a Post GP Story written in 1982, the first one I ever did. After Monday 21st Dec 1981, I felt I had do something. I sent it to Alex Delicado of Slave, he was kind enough to publish it, via Slave Press, as a stand alone story, in 1983.'All Our Tomorrows' was published as an A5 publication with card covers. It was 40 pages in total. Alex was kind enough to get Tim Pieraccini to provide the front cover and David Bowden to provide the 2 other pictures with in the text. One of Avon and Vila (on the last page.) It was Alex who provided the quotes from 'Macbeth' and Edward Fitzgerald.I have moved some of the page numbers around as in the original they appeared in between sentences! I have also corrected spellings etc. Please remember this was typed before we had word processors!This is also the magazine that was signed by Paul Darrow one cold night at the Stage Door after one of his play performances. So it is special to me for that reason!For ease of reading, I have removed the page numbers.





	All Our Tomorrows

 

 

All Our Tomorrows

FRONTPIECE

“TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW,  
CREEPS IN THIS PETTY PACE FROM DAY TO DAY,  
TO THE LAST SYLLABLE OF RECORDED TIME;  
AND ALL OUR YESTERDAYS HAVE LIGHTENED FOOLS  
THE WAY TO DUSTY DEATH. OUT, OUT, BRIEF CANDLE!  
LIFE'S BUT A WALKING SHADOW, A POOR PLAYER,  
THAT STRUTS AND FRETS HIS HOUR UPON THE STAGE,  
AND THEN IS HEARD NO MORE; IT IS A TALE  
TOLD BY AN IDIOT, FULL OF SOUND AND FURY,  
SIGNIFYING NOTHING.”  
(Macbeth — Act V, Scene V)

INTRODUCTION

 

‘BLAKE’ WAS NOT THE END OF THE STORY,  
JUST THE BEGINNING OF ANOTHER CHAPTER...

Although Blake is dead, the others are not, only stunned and bruised after the effects of the Federation's latest weapon — the Neural Disruptor.

However, if they are to survive, Avon and the others must first escape from the clutches of Servalan; but, even that is only one of their problems...

Just how far over the brink has Avon's mind been pushed by Blake's murder?  
Can the others get to him in time?  
And, what does the future hold in store for them?

 

CONTENTS PAGE

ALL OUR  
TOMORROWS  
by Sue Little

 

ALL OUR TOMORROWS is a Special Publication by SLAVE, an amateur magazine  
based on the BBC TV series BLAKE'S SEVEN and is produced and edited by Alex  
Delicado.

CONTENTS  
PROLOGUE  
l. THE WAY FORWARD  
2\. RESOLUTION  
3\. FRIEND OR FOE   
4\. BLAKE 

This special publication is dedicated to all the people who made BLAKE'S SEVEN into the great programme it is, but in particular Paul Darrow, Michael Keating, Jacqueline Pearce, Steven Pacey, Josette Simon, Glynis Barber, Peter Tuddenham and Gareth Thomas, whom appear in this zine in the guise of the characters they portrayed on the screen. The series may be ended, but the legend they created will live for ever.

 

       PROLOGUE

 

The alarms. Has he arrived at last?  
"Security personnel to Main Tracking Gallery; Security Personnel to Main Tracking Gallery..."  
A gunshot; he must have killed her. I've got to get to him, as quickly as I can, before he destroys everything.  
I wonder if he's changed? We all have, but two years? Have they made that much difference? It’s been so long, I can't believe that at last they're all here.  
Vila's still alive anyway, but who are the two women? Where's Cally?  
Still, there will be plenty of time after...  
"Is it him?"  
"It's him."  
"He sold us Avon — all of us. Even you."  
What’s Tarrant saying...?  
"Is it true?"  
Something's wrong. I must try and gain his confidence; the shock...  
"Avon, it’s me — Blake." Perhaps if I move closer, then he’ll see...  
"Stand still. Have you betrayed us...? Have you betrayed me?"  
What's happened to him? Why is he looking at me like that? "Tarrant doesn't understand."  
"Neither do I."  
I must explain everything... He's confused. Who wouldn't be? "I set all this up."  
"Yes."  
I don't like the tone of his voice. He's not listening to reason; not now.  
Tarrant, what have you done? I must reassure him - if I can.  
"Avon, I was waiting for you..."  
Please make him understand. He's got it all wrong. No... he’s pulling the trigger - Avon, not again -. Must reach him. Too late.  
Do you know what you’ve done...? I never thought it would end like this. "Oh... Avon."  
I'm dying, struck down by the one man I considered my friend... Too late, he has destroyed everything; my hope, my dreams, and me - and you know it — don't you Avon?

 

1 THE WAY FORWARD

As the last shot echoed away, leaving an eerie silence hanging over the control room of Gauda Prime, Servalan's orders were carried out, quickly and efficiently. Medics tended the fallen forms of Vila, Dayna, Soolin and Tarrant, before they were unceremoniously removed by Federation troopers, to face separate futures, if they, indeed, survived. The Federation’s new weapon, the Neural Disrupter, had passed its test with flying colours.  
Servalan, rooted to the spot, watched as Tarrant was dragged away to a holding compound, to await court martial and execution. She thought how young and gullible he was, a complete contrast to the man lying at her feet.  
Her Chief Medical Officer rolled Avon's body away from that of Blake‘s. He shook his head. The Neural Disrupter had worked well, perhaps too well.  
From the erratic readings, it was obvious that a life-support system would be required immediately to ensure his survival, but whether he would survive the transfer to Earth was another matter. He quickly left to obtain the all important life-support equipment, leaving Servalan still unmoved.  
Suddenly, she seemed to pull herself together. Slowly she sank beside Avon's unmarked, yet badly injured body, the power of the new weapon reflected in his pale and drawn features.  
"Why Avon?" she asked softly, as if expecting an answer. "It needn’t have been like this. You only had to surrender. Why didn't you? Why?"

Later, four ships lifted off from Gauda Prime, each had its own destination, and each carried a body. Their orders were clear, on no account assist recovery. If they lived, they lived; if they died, they died. Only Tarrant remained, alone, awaiting his fate.  
Aboard Servalan’s command ship, Avon had survived, miraculously, the transition to space, by virtue of the bank upon bank of life-support systems. As the deep throbbing died away, he surfaced from deep unconsciousness to a strange, silent, slow-moving world. With effort he turned his head and saw, grotesquely laid out on the next couch, the one thing he hoped wasn't true - Blake; his unseeing eyes staring out, almost accusingly, at his murderer.  
So it was true, this time it wasn't a hallucination, it had happened, he'd killed Blake. Avon closed his eyes and returned to a deep, dreamless sleep.

He struggled to stay awake, to try and regain some sense of time; at least he was alive, although his whole body seemed numb. Thankfully, there was no ragged wound, which puzzled him. Tarrant struggled to his feet, the worse thing he could have done as, his legs gave way, sending him crashing to the floor. Lying there, face down, breathing with difficulty, he suddenly heard muffled screams, dull shots. He braced himself for the arrival of death at the cell door, but instead, to his surprise, when it opened, there was a woman standing there, framed in the doorway.  
"Can you walk?"  
"If I have help," he rasped.  
"Good. Come on, quickly."  
"Who are you?"  
“Later."

Dayna had fallen victim to Arlen‘s gun, and not the disruptor, so her injuries were more visible, yet her will to survive had pulled her through.  
Still unconscious, she had no conception of the ship landing, or her being left on the surface. Her first realisation was the ship taking off, and the feeling of utter desolation. But that suddenly disappeared as a shadow fell over her. Blinking, she looked up to see a dishevelled man.  
"Well, what have we here?"

  
For Vila, death seemed to be a more delightful prospect with every passing hour, as he had become the target for some Federation bullies. However, neither they, nor the after effects left by the Neural Disrupter, had dulled his innate need to unlock doors. And it was while he was fulfilling this need that the whole ship shuddered.  
"We've been hit," he thought. Another shudder, which only served to spur him on, he wasn't going to be used for target practice by anyone.  
Seconds later, the door slid aside. Alarms were sounding, lights flashing and the crew were notable by their absence. Using the corridor wall for support, Vila began the long walk to the flight deck.  
He could hardly believe his eyes, the flight deck was empty. Close inspection of the instrumentation revealed why; the entire crew had abandoned ship as a meteor storm had hit.  
Vila punched up the main screen, the storm was still there, and more spasms testified to that. Strapping himself in, he took control of the ship.  
"If Tarrant can do it, so can I. It’s easy."

Soolin was also having trouble, but hers came from a Federation guard who had fastened his unwanted attentions on her. However, she was playing along with him, until a suitable moment came along.  
Her thoughts returned to Gauda Prime, and to the devastating moments that had undoubtedly changed her life. Utmost in her mind was Avon’s expression. She’d never seen him like that before and it occurred to her that his delicately balanced mind had finally slipped over the precipice.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Immediately, her demeanour softened; her trap was about to be sprung.  
The guard had no idea what hit him, and Soolin, standing over his body, wasn't going to wait around and tell him. Fighting off a dizzy spell, she ran to the flight deck, and surprised the other men, who were engrossed in a card game. The game was to be unfinished, as Soolin lowered the smoking barrel.  
Quickly, she got to the pilot's position and strapped herself in.  
"This ship is definitely overcrowded and useless for my means. I think I'll exchange it for something more suitable."

Avon's first conscious sensations were those of the life-support being detached, quickly yet gently. Minutes later, still muddled, he felt hands take his arms, and he was helped to stand. Hours, days, or whatever had taken their toll, his legs buckled. Undeterred, his helpers jerked him up and half carried, half dragged him away.  
When they finally halted, they were in a palatial cabin. Avon wasn’t that far gone to realise to whom it belonged. As if on cue, she entered.  
"Hello, Avon. You don't look well. Would you like to sit down?"  
"No," he replied. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Orac; so they'd found him.  
"You may be wondering," Servalan began, "Why you are still alive. A new weapon and most effective. It can kill without being messy. It disrupts."  
"I know how it works. Now stop making polite conversation. What do you want?"  
"I want your mind. You have knowledge which is invaluable."  
"Use Orac," Avon muttered.  
"He has the theory, you have the practical knowhow. And, before you give me your answer, you should know that in the hold of this ship is a cryogenic capsule. It contains Blake. Should you decide not to co-operate then, my scientific researchers could, perhaps, use his body to further the frontiers of medical science."  
Avon's look of disgust cut right through her.  
"And you should consider your friends."  
"They're alive?"  
"Just. But that can be changed." She watched him digest the news.  
Seconds later his dull eyes met hers.  
"No." It was quite emphatic.  
"You are mad, just as my Chief Medical Officer confirmed. You're willing to let them die? All right then," she turned away, "I can offer you protection. News of Blake’s death has spread like wildfire. Already I have received reports that his most ardent supporters are out to avenge what they see as a betrayal."  
"Protect me from simple minded fools? The only person you have to protect me from is myself..." He was almost white by now. Servalan clenched her fists, deeply annoyed, but then her attention was drawn to a light flashing on the console.  
"Yes?"  
"Commissioner, we’ve lost all computer function. Navigation, defences, communications..."  
"What? How...?" She glanced at Orac. "This is your doing! I'll remove..."  
"You’ll do no such thing," Orac stated. "To do so would initiate the self-destruct sequence."  
"Avon, make it restore computer function now. Or, you’ll be the first to die."  
"Don't you understand," Orac said. "That’s what he wants."  
"Avon..." she turned to see him fall, pulling the two guards off balance. She crossed the floor to him, as he suddenly knocked the two men aside and reached for her throat. His arm snaked round her slender neck, as he bent her arm behind her back.  
"If they make one false move," he hissed, "I’ll break your neck. Tell them to get a ship, put the capsule with Blake’s body on it, then Orac and me. Tell them to do it now!"  
The two guards vanished. Avon jerked Servalan round to face him. "All your lying and cheating... it’s over for me, but I will not let you take Blake."  
"He meant that much to you? What did he offer you? I offered you the chance to rule with me, I'm offering it now. Together..."  
"You’ve never offered anything without catches in your whole life. You offered Tarrant love because your life depended on it," his grasp tightened as a murderous glint appeared in his eyes. "You fooled him, but you’ve never fooled me."  
"Haven't I?" she asked mockingly. He kissed her hard.  
"You won't see me again. I've one thing left to do and then I'll be out of your life. Forever."

They’d brought a ship alongside and had put Blake's encapsulated body aboard, along with Orac. Avon was next. Hardly able to stand, he was leaning on Servalan for support. Somehow they reached the escape ship's hatch.  
"Orac will restore full function as soon as I'm out of range. You have my word." He released her, allowing himself one last look as the hatch closed.  
Sinking to the floor, he turned to Orac.  
"Get us out of here, Orac."  
"Destination, Avon?" There was no reply. Avon had slipped into unconsciousness again.

Servalan watched the ship disappear, knowing that not only had she lost Avon, but the others too. Orac had worked well. At her side was her Chief Medical Officer.  
"I wouldn't worry, Commissioner. In that condition no ordinary man could survive."  
"Except," Servalan said in a tone tinged with regret, "He's no ordinary man."

  
Aboard the woman's small, cramped ship, Tarrant was making a speedy recovery. Xaviera, as she introduced herself, had explained how she had brought about the escape.  
"So you were in the vicinity," Tarrant asked, "when you heard the news?”  
"I thought I could help. Unfortunately, only you were left. It wasn’t difficult getting in as you saw from all the bodies. I decided to rescue whoever was left and then go and get Avon. His immense knowledge could be of great value to the Federation."  
"Well, at least," Tarrant smiled. "There are two of us to rescue him, isn't there?" Xaviera returned the smiled, brushing her unkempt hair away from her face.  
"I think I'd better check the communications channels and see if Sleer's ship is still on course." `  
Tarrant watched her go forward, and allowed his thoughts to return to the others. He was rudely interrupted.  
"Tarrant. Avon's escaped. A complete malfunction on Sleer's ship and he got away."  
"I don’t believe it," he dived into the pilot's seat. "Good old Orac."  
He punched figures into the in-board computer.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Contact Orac," Tarrant replied, "And you contact Avon."

Galena heard the drone of engines as she worked in the fields. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw the ship pass low overhead, about to land. She ran to the small, but functional shelter, and called her husband.  
They reached the landing site. The ship was grounded, its exit hatch open, but no-one appeared to be about to leave. The two of them carefully entered, not knowing what they would find. Sitting on the flight console was a strange machine, and on the deck, in a deeply comatose state was a man. Galena's husband, Cao, easily took the man's weight, while she removed the strange flashing device.  
In the confines of the shelter, Cao dropped his load on the bed. "Well, who is he?"  
"His name is Avon." Both Cao and Galena started as Orac spoke. "He is in an extremely dangerous condition and requires your immediate assistance."  
"Avon?" Cao echoed. "But that’s the name of the man who murdered Blake.”  
"Yes, this is he. Aboard his ship there is a cryogenic capsule containing Blake’s body."  
"Recriminations later, Cao," Galena said. "this man needs our help. Now.”

Taking a leaf out of Vila’s book, Soolin had 'acquired' another ship from the bustling spaceport of Andrena IV, and was now far away from the very annoyed owner who was, understandably, not too pleased with the ship he had received in exchange. Gaining experience with every passing minute, she was eventually coming to the conclusion she could fly it blindfolded.  
She listened to the busy communications channels, at a loss what to do next. Suddenly, the news of Avon's escape filtered through the chatter. She, too, realised, just as Tarrant had, that she would have to try and contact Orac, as obviously that ingenious little device had had some part in Avon’s getaway. Punching in 'Orac’, a reply eventually came back, via the computer readout screen. Orac, by the looks of it, was using the Federation's own computer links to reach her, and more to the point, he knew the precise locations of Dayna and Vila, as their co-ordinates were revealed. Soolin didn't need telling twice, she knew it was up to her to affect a rescue.

  
Dayna, by now on her way to recovery, was standing at the mouth of the cave, looking up at the pin-point of lights, wondering which one marked the others’ whereabouts, if indeed, the others were still alive. She was finding it difficult enough on this desolate penal colony, where all resemblance of authority had long vanished, and you had to fight to survive. She was now relying on her inbred instincts.  
"You're not still hoping are you?" Hoff, her newly found friend, was standing next to her.  
"I feel sure they're still alive."  
"Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing."  
"Anyway, it's all over now isn't it?" Dayna sighed. "Blake’s dead."  
"The man may be dead, but he will become a legend and they tend to be indestructible."  
"I suppose you're right."  
A movement caught her eye; she looked again. It wasn't a shooting star, it was too slow for that. It was another ship. Hoff frowned.  
"Two ships in such a short time, Dayna? I don't like it. Come on, I think we'd better move." He dashed inside the cave, quickly gathering an armful of primitive weapons. Both of them ran, as the ship landed and disgorged its complement of troopers. This was going to be a very one sided battle.  
Dayna struggled to keep up, she still wasn't one hundred per cent fit. She realised, as the Federation troopers gave chase that something had happened. Something to do with her, or possibly the others. She stumbled as shots rang out, shots that masked the sound of another ship.  
Hoff whirled.  
"Dayna!" he flung a spear, only to be cut down. From somewhere in the darkness came a very familiar voice.  
"Dayna, over here." Then the shooting stopped. The black girl looked up to see Soolin, shouldering her gun.  
"How?" Dayna asked in complete bewilderment.  
"Thank Orac. Now to get Vila."  
"Must we?"  
"I know what you mean. But, it's only fair."  
Dayna took a last look at Hoff, his body shattered, and then followed Soolin aboard her ship.

Getting the ship out of the meteor storm had proven to be more difficult than he thought, and Vila had crash-landed on some inhospitable planet. Head spinning, he sat up in the pilot's seat to see a mess.  
"Oh hell." He staggered to the exit hatch and opened it. "I suppose I'd better check the damage."  
And that was how Vila had plodded round the ship for the umpteenth time and arrived at the same conclusion; it was a total wreck, completely beyond repair.  
"And Tarrant made it seem so easy."  
Dejected, he climbed aboard and slumped into the nearest seat. Here he was, lost, stuck on some unknown planet, with no food and more importantly, no drink. It was at times like this that he appreciated the finer qualities of Orac's company and the comforts of Xenon. He was so engrossed in these thoughts that he failed to heed the arrival of another ship.  
Muffled voices were his first indication. Petrified, he sat frozen where he was, hardly daring to breathe.  
"Are you sure Orac’s got it right?"  
"He should know, he flew it here."  
Vila sat up, recognising the voices.  
"What do you mean, 'he flew it here'?" Vila shouted, reaching the open hatch.  
"Vila!" Dayna and Soolin said in unison. .  
"I flew it here, not that useless bit of junk. I risked life and limb to crash land..."  
"That," Dayna said, "may explain why Orac had so much trouble instructing the computer. You were countermanding it."  
Vila wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on Soolin's ship.  
"Is Orac aboard that thing? I never knew he had such good taste."  
"Actually, I borrowed it," Soolin replied. "Seems having you in my life has rubbed off. And, no, Orac isn't aboard. He's with Avon."  
"Avon’s alive? Come on, we've got to get to him."  
"Orac won't tell us where he is," Dayna said. They followed Vila to the ship, watching him inspect it closely, outside and in. While he made himself comfortable, the two girls prepared to lift off, but then a message flashed on the screen.  
+STANDBY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE+ They exchanged looks, what was Orac up to now?  
"Make yourself comfortable, Vila," Soolin said. "We could be here for some time."  
Dayna peered over her shoulder and grinned. "He already has." Soolin followed her line of sight. Vila was doing what came naturally – eating and drinking.

  
Tarrant glared at the message on the screen. "Standby until further notice?" He thumped the arm rest. "What the hell is Orac up to?"  
Xaviera was quiet. "He must have a good reason, so why don't we do just that?"  
"Okay," Tarrant murmured. "Let's see if we can find a nice quiet planet somewhere," he smiled. "Then perhaps I could get to know you better?”

Avon's eyes wandered over the sparsely furnished room, until they came to rest on Orac, sitting on the table. No one seemed to be around, although there were signs of habitation. Head still spinning, he walked carefully towards the computer.  
"Orac," he said hoarsely.  
"Yes Avon?"  
"Where are we?"  
"Haven. A frontier world outside the Federation's control. Known to be violently opposed to the Federation and on numerous occasions has assisted rebels. It was the logical place to bring you."  
Avon fought to remember what had happened. "How long have I been here?"  
"Three weeks." It was a man's gruff voice which supplied the answer.  
"Now get away from that machine." Avon didn't move. He turned his head to see the man, standing there, with a gun pointed straight at him.  
"I can't blame you for wanting to kill me. There must be many people who feel like you do."  
"You give me one good reason why I shouldn't, traitor."  
"Cao!" Galena entered. "He's our guest, put that gun away. I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were awake."  
"How did I get here?" Avon asked, his thoughts still clouded.  
"Your friend," Galena indicated Orac. "brought you here on a Federation pursuit ship. Don't you remember how you came to be aboard?"  
"I have a vague memory of being on Servalan's ship, but nothing else."  
"You were close to death when we found you, and we nearly lost you several times, but somehow you survived."  
"Have you any news of my...friends?"  
"I have kept them waiting," Orac replied. “Under the circumstances, I did not consider it your wish to have them in the immediate area. However, now that you have recovered..."  
"No, Orac. Make them wait a little longer. There is something I must do and I know they will try to talk me out of it." Avon’s eyes stared at Cao. "Have you a weapon and an explosive device?"  
"Yes. Why?" Cao's open hostility was not lost on Avon.  
"It’s better you don't know. I would like them. Now." He watched Cao leave, then turned to look at Galena. "I don't want to appear ungrateful but I have put your lives at risk for too long and I have to do this one last thing."  
"You're not well. You're in no condition to go anywhere."  
"My...condition is of no importance."  
"You could die..."  
"That is my intention," Avon smiled at her. "I'm not afraid of death. I never have been. I've lived with it for so long, it's like a friend. Is Blake's body still aboard?"  
"Yes," Galena said quietly, as Cao strode in and deposited the hand gun and bomb on the table with abruptness.  
"Good. Give Orac to them when they arrive. And Orac, I'll instruct you once I'm aboard the ship, and don’t tell anyone where I‘m going."  
"Very well," Orac retorted.  
"Just tell them I won't be coming back."

  
Within hours, Tarrant was storming towards the shelter and angrily hammering on the door. Galena opened it, only to have Tarrant barge past her.  
"Avon...Avon!" His voice echoed. "Where is he?" Angrily he grabbed her shoulders. "Where is he?"  
"I don't know...He left Orac for you..."  
Tarrant wheeled and faced the computer. "Where the hell is Avon?"  
"His instructions were most explicit. He does not want that information to be divulged."  
"You've kept me waiting all this time to tell me that! It's not good enough Orac." It was at times like this that Tarrant wished Orac resembled a human being. At least you could force a human to tell all.  
"What’s going on here?" Cao, alarmed by the shouting, had come running.  
"It's all right Cao. This is Tarrant. Remember Orac telling us about him?"  
"I want to know where Avon is." Tarrant was trying to calm down. `  
"All I know," Galena said. "is that he has one more thing to do. We tried to talk him out of it, but he was most insistent. I told him he could die."  
"Actually,” Cao enjoined. "I think that is what he intends to do. When I saw him, I pulled a gun on him and from what I‘ve heard of the man, no one ever lived who did that. I've had a couple of hours to think about it and it occurred to me that killing him wouldn't have been the right thing to do. He has to live with Blake's death on his conscience for the rest of his life, and in his state of mind, he can't."  
"You're saying he's suicidal?" Tarrant asked.  
"That is my belief, because he asked me for a gun and an explosive device, then left here with Blake's body."  
Tarrant pondered on that for a moment, then spoke to Orac. "What is Avon doing?”  
"Taking Blake home."  
"He's gone to Earth...I've got to get to him fast."  
"Orac, programme my computer to give the correct responses to Earth's security systems and compute Avon’s final co-ordinates."  
"But the others," Galena pointed out.  
"Tell them to wait. I’ll be back."

Avon had pre-set the automatics on his ship and now it was hurtling towards the Sun, empty. In an obscure, deserted mountainous region of Earth, he'd located the ideal place to hide Blake, until the time came when the Federation had finally been overthrown. Then, a computer file would reveal Blake's resting place, thus enabling him to have a burial worthy of a hero.  
Slowly, painfully, he dragged the capsule down into a deep, dark cavern, a portable light illuminating the way. Despite the anti-gravs, the capsule was proving difficult to move, and Avon's weakened state didn't help matters.  
Eventually, he lowered the capsule to its final resting place. Totally exhausted, Avon slumped onto the nearest boulder, knowing that the final moments were drawing near. From an inside pocket, he withdrew the bomb, a small, yet effective, device. He set the timer for one hour, then standing up, placed it at the cavern‘s entrance. One hour until Blake and he were sealed in; one hour to reflect on the past.  
He held Cao’s gun in his hand. It wasn’t as decorative to look at as the Scorpio guns, but it undoubtedly had the same desired result. He sat down again, as the memory of those fatal moments on Gauda Prime returned; three shots and he still came. Avon could still feel the grip of Blake's hand on his arm, but the following events were a hazy jumble.  
From the dark recesses of his mind, came people, all silent; Gan, Jenna, Anna, Cally and Blake. There was also a very faint recollection of the three weeks on Haven, Galena at his side, but then the faces were back, all accusing him. Then Servalan was there. She’d witnessed his confusion and his subsequent murder of Blake. In his mind's eye, he could see her and fired a volley of shots. Her shocked expression was the last clear memory he had, before his mind plunged into utter and complete darkness.  
"This isn't the answer Avon," Tarrant’s breathless, yet soothing tones brought him back. He didn't move, but quietly smiled.  
"So, Orac told you where I was going?"  
"No. He refused to tell me. I merely rephrased the question. I asked him what you were doing. It was easy to guess you were coming to Earth."  
"And now you're here, what do you propose to do?"  
"I'm taking you back, Avon. Killing yourself won't solve anything."  
"Won’t it?" Avon sighed. "I can't go through life known as the man who murdered Blake. I'll be the target for every glory-seeker, bounty-hunter and crank who intends to make a name for them. Not at my expense, they're not."  
"Blake wouldn't want it like this, he'd want you to carry on, see it through to the end."  
"Haven’t I done enough already?" For the first time Avon looked at Tarrant, allowing the young man to see his tortured eyes. "I'm here because of him. As the ‘London' was leaving Earth I heard him say that somehow he'd be back. I’m fulfilling that promise he made to himself."  
"All right," Tarrant said. "You've done it, but there's no need for you to die as well." He came closer, standing by the capsule. "Avon, you are not well."  
Avon laughed softly. "In other words you’re saying I’m mad? Perhaps I was before I even got aboard the 'London'. Who wouldn't be after what I’d been through? My family, my friends...wiped out," he sliced the air with his left hand. "Everything important in my life; everything that meant something, gone in a moment. Except Anna. For two years I had harboured revenge for her. To find out it was she who caused it all...Perhaps insanity had something to do with why I entered the computer control centre on the 'London'."  
"Why did you?" Tarrant asked quietly, hoping to diffuse the tense situation.  
"I've asked myself that question many times."  
"And the answer?"  
"I thought, mistakenly, that Blake wouldn’t get away with it, that he and I would be executed. I couldn't face a life sentence on Cygnus Alpha, it seemed the easy way out."  
"Like now? Avon, you left Orac, so that we could continue the struggle, but we can't, not without you. We need you’re immense knowledge, just as Servalan did. That’s why she went out of her way to keep you alive."  
"Yes...Servalan," he stared into space, recalling his own private memories. "She tried to force me to co-operate by threatening me with your lives. I said no." He idly glanced at the bomb, then switched his gaze to Tarrant. "You have five minutes to get out."  
"Gan didn't have a choice did he?" Avon's eyes narrowed. "Oh, Vila's told me about him enough times. He gave his life so that you could escape. Don't you think you’re betraying him by committing suicide? And what about Cally?"  
Avon froze, then uttered, almost inaudibly. "Get out."  
But Tarrant continued savagely. "Cally had no choice. She didn't even know the base was going up. On your own admission, she was murdered."  
"Shut up," Avon snapped.  
"You've got every chance to get out and avenge her death, because only you can. You were closer to her than any of us, and whether you admit it or not, her death affected you."  
"Tarrant..."  
"As Cally once said, 'We can't afford to lose you’."  
"You've got four minutes."  
"Are you listening to me Avon? I'm not letting you kill yourself."  
"All right," Avon's attitude suddenly changed. He smiled, then tossed Cao's gun to Tarrant, who caught it awkwardly, "you kill me."  
Embarrassed, Tarrant stared down at the weapon and muttered. "I can't do that."  
"What’s the matter Tarrant? You've threatened enough times. Here's your chance. Go on."  
"I can’t"  
"Then perhaps your friend can."  
Tarrant whirled, to see Xaviera, her gun levelled at Avon.  
"She’s one of those glory-seekers I was telling you about. Orac told me who you had aboard. It didn't seem right to tell you."  
"But," Tarrant stammered, utterly confused, "you told me you were going to rescue Avon."  
"I said I was going to get him, now get out of the way."  
"I knew," Avon explained, "that you wouldn't be able to kill me, but your friend would. I thought you were never coming," he said directly to Xaviera, "Do as the lady says, Tarrant."  
"Xaviera, I can't let you do this."  
"Don’t give me any of your morality, Tarrant."  
He stared incredulously at her and then at Avon, who was waiting for death. Very slowly, he spoke, "I...killed...Blake."  
"Tarrant," Avon yelled.  
"Oh, he pulled the trigger all right. Blake was right Avon, I didn’t understand. I told you he'd betrayed you. It‘s because of me he's dead."  
"I'm warning you."  
"Blake's death was as much my responsibility, as it was his, Xaviera. If you kill him, you have to kill me."  
"If that's what you want," Her finger tightened on the trigger. In one move Tarrant leapt at her. A powerful blast from her gun hit the cavern's roof, sending rocks cascading down. There wasn't much of a fight, Tarrant's fist saw to that. As he stood over her fallen body, there came an ominous rumble from above. He flung himself aside as the roof tumbled down, burying Xaviera.  
"Avon. Come on!" He turned to see him standing there, eyes fixed ahead, "This is no time to be stubborn."  
"You’ve got three minutes to get out," he droned.  
"That does it..." Tarrant angrily hit out and was shocked at how easily Avon succumbed to the blow. He caught his falling body, with difficulty.  
"I’m sorry," he whispered apologetically, "I didn't want it to be like this."

Vila wasn't particularly interested in the conversation, his attention was on Galena, who was busily replenishing the glasses. Both she and Cao had waited with them until Tarrant’s ship had returned, but neither had taken part in the reunion, preferring to watch the back slapping and hugging from a distance. Even that, though, had ceased, the moment Avon had emerged from the ship. There was a strange stony silence as he had walked slowly past them all, without saying a word, although Vila had an idea that the cut lip had something to do with that.  
Now they were all seated round the table, discussing their future.  
Privately, Vila harboured the conviction that they'd all do well to settle on some small planet somewhere, this one perhaps, and live happily ever after.  
"What do you think, Vila?" Tarrant asked.  
"Uh," Vila sat up with a start. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."  
"We carry on - yes or no?"  
"I vote we all retire and let someone else get shot at." Three pairs of eyes drilled into him. "But then again..."  
Avon, seated alone, at the far end of the table, was still staring at his hands, fingers interlocked. "We'll need a new ship," he said bluntly, "one that doesn't attract too much attention," referring to Soolin's acquisition.  
"We've never had much trouble before," Tarrant pointed out, "and you can always modify whatever craft we come across."  
"I, for one," Dayna began, "won’t be satisfied until Servalan is dead, so whatever the rest of you decide, I know what I must do."  
"And you Soolin?" Avon asked, "You're the only one who hasn't a vested interest."  
"True, but until a better offer come along, I'll think I'll stay."  
"Which leaves you Avon," Tarrant smiled. Avon didn't return the smile. He just slowly looked at the young man, with a dark expression. Tarrant swallowed hard.  
"I see your powers of deduction haven't been impaired either," he replied. "You stand a better chance with me."  
"Good. Then we're all agreed aren’t we, Vila?”  
"Eh? I suppose so," he grumbled, not exactly fired with enthusiasm.  
Yet, even as Tarrant got up, Vila remained seated, as did Dayna and Soolin, waiting for Avon. It was obvious who they still regarded as leader.  
"Tarrant," Avon said, "don’t presume all things have changed, because they haven't. Is that clear?"  
Galena, who had hovered in the background, cast a glance at Cao. Nervously, he stepped forward.  
"You're going then?"  
"Yes. If we stayed any longer, it would put you at risk. Orac reports that there are several Federation ships searching the area."  
"I understand. It has been a privilege to have you here. Not only in our humble shelter, but on this planet. We’ve fought off the Federation with every means at our disposal, and I know we will continue to do so. But somehow, knowing you are out there, it will enable all of us, despite the Federation, to carry on, living in hope."  
"I hope your faith will be rewarded," Avon murmured. He got to his feet, "You must forget that we were ever here, because if they ever discovered that you...," he looked at Galena, "helped me...Well, I think you can guess what would happen. We’ll leave that other ship here. I’m sure you can find a use for it."  
Cao nodded, then smiled as he extended his hand. Avon was taken slightly aback, but shook the offered hand.  
"When all this is over you are welcome to return here."  
Avon acknowledged that, but knew that somehow, when all this was over, he would be dead.  
"Good-bye." With that, he lifted Orac from its resting place, and began to walk towards the door. Galena met him halfway. She lightly touched his hand, the hand she had gripped as he’d fought his way through hallucinations and agonising traumas.  
Very quietly, she said. "Good luck."  
The others followed as one, all except Vila, who trailed behind. He cleared his throat, "Avon doesn’t mean to appear impolite, it's just that's he a bit reticent in these matters. So I’ll say it for him. Thank you, and that goes for all of us."  
"Vila, if you're coming, you had better get a move on." Tarrant's voice sounded from the distance.  
"Duty calls. Excuse me. Good-bye."  
Cao and Galena stood in the doorway and watched Vila climb aboard. Seconds later, the impressive ship lifted from Haven's surface. Both shielded their eyes from the glare of the sun, following its progress until it became a small dot in the blue sky. As it vanished Galena turned to Cao.  
"Where are they going?"  
He lowered his hand and faced her, "To their destiny."

2 RESOLUTION  
Haven was but another star in the vast void of endless space. Aboard the hijacked spaceship, Vila was studying the rear screen, a smile of fondness on his face. Cao and Galena had run a great risk by taking Avon in, he sincerely hoped they wouldn’t regret what they had done.  
"Vila!" Tarrant’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "Vila, you are supposed to be minding the scanners, just in case some inquisitive Federation ships decide to have a closer look."  
"Orac's handling that. There‘s no need to worry." He casually switched off the screen and turned to face Tarrant, who was resplendent in a new set of clothes. "Where did you get...?"  
"There's a machine in the main state cabin," Tarrant explained. "Tap in your size and...presto."  
"That sounds like fun," Vila smiled, rising.  
"Try to keep it simple, Vila, we don't want to look out of place in that construction dock, do we?"  
"Suppose not," the small man replied, sauntering off the flight deck and bumping into Soolin and Dayna, also attired in brand new outfits.  
"Very nice," he murmured, before disappearing down the corridor.  
Both women crossed the deck to where Tarrant was now sitting, with Orac on the table, before him.  
"It seems a shame to get rid of this ship," Dayna said, seating herself beside Tarrant, "Are you sure it’s necessary?"  
"Avon seems to think so," Tarrant answered. "Anyway, that construction dock is fully automated, with Orac's assembled knowledge and a few additional ideas from me, we can have a ship built to our specifications."  
"Where is Avon?" Soolin enquired.  
"Sleeping. I looked in on him a moment ago. And that's our other problem." He caught their puzzled expressions, "Avon said it himself. He’ll be the target for every bounty hunter and glory-seeker. And we are all there is between him and them. In effect, Avon is a liability."  
"If you knew that," Dayna said, "why did you risk your life to get him out of that cavern?"  
"Yes, I'd like to know that too," Soolin smiled, sitting down opposite.  
"Purely selfish reasons," Tarrant smiled back, "Everyone associated with Blake has never had a choice when it came to dying. So why should Avon be allowed to die by his own hand? It’s that simple."  
"And you may come to regret it," interrupted Orac.  
"Regret what?" Tarrant asked.  
"Not permitting Avon his own death. You must consider the position he now finds himself in. He has killed Blake, a name that inspired hope in millions. It is a formidable burden he carries, a burden that may effectively bring his progressive decline into insanity to a speedy conclusion."  
"Are you saying Avon is mad?" Soolin whispered.  
"All indications show a definite trend to this end."  
"He’s been going mad and you didn’t tell us?" Dayna gasped.  
"No one asked me," Orac replied, huffily.  
"All right," Tarrant said, "I'm asking now. Is Avon mad? And how will he react?"  
"It is quite probable that his mind will withdraw, refuse to acknowledge the deed. The human mind is like a sponge, but it can only take so much. It is my opinion, that Avon’s mind has reached its saturation point. He will withdraw into himself."  
Tarrant swallowed, nervously looking from Soolin then to Dayna. "I hope you’re wrong Orac, because we need Avon for the teleport."  
"And the Star Drive engine, and the computer systems," Soolin added.  
"You were right, Tarrant. Your reasons are selfish."

  
Vila had found the main state cabin and the machine Tarrant had referred to. Casually, he flicked through the choice available, his mind else-where. He was thinking about this ship, its luxury; everything an Alpha grade could wish for, and more. But, as Avon had said, it wasn't suitable especially for the requirements of a terrorist group. Still, it was good while it lasted. He wondered, though, just what sort of ship they would end up with. Knowing Avon, it would be something functional and austere.  
A particular design caught his eye. He pressed a button, and just as Tarrant had promised, presto - a change of clothes. It wasn't anything dull, or too flamboyant, but he certainly wouldn't stand out in a crowd at that space port.  
Well pleased with his choice, he made his way back to the flight deck, to find the others still engrossed in conversation. .  
"Three weeks I’ve been on this ship," Vila announced, sidling over to the food dispenser, "and I didn't even know that machine existed."  
"Maybe another machine grabbed your attention?" Dayna replied.  
Vila ignored that, as he investigated what delights the dispenser had delivered this time. It appeared appetising enough, so he took the tray and wandered over to the table.  
"You know, the Alpha grade who owned this, only had the best," he said after downing the drink.  
Soolin smiled. "Make the most of it, Vila, Avon will keep everything down to basics on the new ship."  
Vila put down the glass and scanned the flight deck. "Speaking of whom, where is Avon?"  
"Asleep," Tarrant replied, "and I don’t think he wants to be disturbed."  
"Avon. Asleep? He‘s been a long time. Has anyone checked on him?"  
"I looked in a few moments ago," Tarrant began, "He’s been asleep about two hours."  
"Two hours! You should know by now..."  
"Look Vila," Tarrant cut in, "he’s had a bad time. It catches up with all of us eventually."  
"If it’ll make you any happier," Dayna said, rising, "I’ll go."

The cabin's door quietly slid open. Dayna stepped in. The light was low but she could see Avon, flat out on his back, eyes firmly shut. She did not want to disturb him, yet something about Vila's concerned expression told her she should. Softly, she crossed the cabin floor.  
He looked strangely pale.  
"Avon," she whispered. "Avon." She gently tapped his shoulder. "Av--"  
His eyes snapped open. A woman - calling his name. In a state of frenzy, he reached out for her throat.  
Dayna's scream caught in her throat as Avon's hands closed round her neck. In one movement, he had pinned her against the far wall, a frightening glint in his eyes. Somehow, though, Dayna managed to cry out.  
"Tarrant!"  
Tarrant was gone, followed by Vila and Soolin, within seconds. When he reached the door, he thumped the control, only to stop in his tracks at the scene that confronted him.  
"What in...?" Tarrant gasped, not fully realising that Avon was effectively strangling Dayna. Coming to his senses, he crossed the floor and grabbed Avon, trying to pull him away, but Avon was a powerful man, in the grip of something equally powerful.  
Vila dived in, pulling frantically at Avon's hands until his fingers were prized free from Dayna’s throat. Tarrant hauled Avon away, slamming him, hard, against the bulkhead.  
"Get her out of here – now!" he yelled, "Soolin - move!"  
The blonde girl dragged Dayna out, leaving the door to close on the strange scene inside.  
The cold, steel wall against his face, seemed to bring Avon to his senses, but Tarrant still held him fast. Vila watched as Avon's expression slowly changed to one of confusion and misunderstanding.  
"Now calm down, Avon. Let's talk about this like grown men..." Tarrant stopped as he saw Vila staring into Avon's eyes.  
"That wasn't Servalan, Avon," Vila said softly.  
"Wasn't Serv...?" came the hoarse reply.  
"No." Vila motioned Tarrant to release his hold on Avon, and when he didn't, roughly removed the young man's hands himself. Avon remained where he was, blinking as his mind fought to regain some semblance of logic.  
“What's going on?" Tarrant asked. Vila was about to answer, when Avon slowly turned to face them, allowing Tarrant to see for the first time, the blank look in his eyes. Slowly he walked past them and resumed his position on the bunk. Vila shrugged in response to Tarrant’s questioning look.  
"I'll stay here," Vila murmured. Suddenly feeling very inadequate, Tarrant decided to leave Vila to it.

"Well?" Soolin asked. ‘  
"You tell me," Tarrant replied, still puzzled by what had happened. "It looks as though Orac was right though, Dayna”  
The dark girl managed a relieved smile. "I thought a suicidal Avon was bad enough, but a homicidal Avon?"  
"Dayna has a point," Soolin murmured. "there is no way of telling what he'll do next. Maybe you should have left him in the cave, Tarrant."  
"I'm beginning to think that too."

Trying to land a white-hulled ship without attracting too much attention, proved a pointless exercise. In a compound full of grey, battered ships, the pristine ship stuck out like a sore thumb. Before vacating it, Tarrant made sure everything of value was removed, after all, they'd need some sort of currency to get by.  
By now, Avon’s condition was giving cause for concern. It was as if he had retreated completely into himself. Somehow, Vila and Tarrant carried Avon between them, while Dayna carried Orac, and Soolin took charge of the ill-gotten gains.  
Their first priority was to find a safe place to leave Avon, a place where not too many questions would be asked, and they found such a place in a rundown boarding section, off one of the main connecting walkways.  
Tarrant lowered Avon onto the bed in the small room, then set about checking his gun, obtained from the armoury of the stolen ship.  
"Expecting trouble?" Vila queried. `  
"It's called being prepared," Tarrant answered. "Dayna, give the lady of the house one of those pieces of jewellery; that should keep her quiet."  
"And I stay here?" Vila said hopefully.  
"Correct."  
"And don’t fall asleep Vila," Dayna added.  
“Me?”  
"Because we'll be back to check," Soolin enjoined.  
“Where are you off to?"  
"To see a man about a ship," Tarrant replied, picking up Orac.  
For a moment, Vila thought he saw a look of concern in the young man's eyes as he cast a glance at the sleeping form of Avon, but the look suddenly vanished. Saying he'd be all right left on his own, Vila watched the trio leave, then sank into the only chair, an uncomfortable one at that, and drifted off to sleep.

  
In the office of one Tal Bruner, Tarrant was studying the computer work record.  
"You don't appear to have any work at the moment."  
Tal Bruner, a small, but well-built man, was nervously eyeing the unannounced intruders. "Any time now," he muttered. "orders can come at any time."  
"You can have an order right now. I'll make it worth your while." As he said that, Tarrant allowed the contents of a small bag to tumble out onto the table, the delicate jewellery glinted in the harsh overhead light. Bruner reached out, only to have Tarrant’s hand slam down on his. He smiled at the bewildered, pug-faced man. “Oh no, only if we have a deal."  
"You’ve got one." He pressed a series of buttons on the console before him. "You can have a choice of ship. Designs, hulls, interiors, exteriors. I programme the comp..."  
"That's not necessary," Tarrant murmured, “my little friend can do that that." He hoisted Orac onto the table.  
Bruner swallowed, then looked from Orac to Tarrant and then to Dayna and Soolin. "You're...you're... aren‘t you?"  
"Ten out of ten," Dayna whispered.  
"If you're still running with Avon then I’d better warn you; they're out to get him."  
"They?” Soolin asked.  
"Anyone who wants to be someone."  
"We are aware of that," Tarrant said, "and until our ship is completed we'll take turns to make sure you don't tell the Federation."  
“Have you any idea what they will do to me if they discover this construction dock built you a ship?"  
"Graphically," Tarrant replied, meeting the man‘s worried look. "Soolin keep an eye on him."  
"Of course," the blonde-haired, gun-fighter murmured, pointing her gun directly at Bruner to make sure he got the message.  
"And we'll," Dayna added, "go and check on Vila."  
"Naturally."

It was a cloudless blue sky, the sun was warm and she was so beautiful. He reached out to gather her in his arms... only to see Tarrant there.  
"Vila!"  
He was jolted out of his dreams by Tarrant violently shaking him.  
"You were supposed to be keeping watch."  
"I am - was- why?" Vila shrieked.  
Tarrant jerked him up onto his feet. "That's why!"  
Vila followed Tarrant‘s pointing finger and gasped. Avon was gone. "I..I..."  
"Dayna, any sign of him?”  
She appeared from the darkened hallway. "No."  
"Great." Tarrant sighed, letting Vila fall, "just great..."

Leaving the bright, bustling thoroughfares of the trading post, he began to walk into the dark, menacing passages, inhabited by sinister shadows, all registering the sudden arrival of unsuspecting prey.  
Avon had no conception of where he was going, he was just walking, nowhere in particular. He felt strangely relieved, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Here, in the silent gloom, occasionally broken by inquisitive passers-by, he was without care or worries. No-one was pressing him. For the first time in many a year, he felt relaxed and alone.  
Lost in the maze of walkways, he was totally unaware of the footfalls behind him; echoing footfalls that were awaiting the right moment.  
Avon’s first realisation of something untoward came when he was confronted by a knife-wielding young man, who blocked his progress.  
"Yes?" It was a calm question, with no hint of fear, a fact that worried the man slightly.  
"Your money - and quickly."  
“I haven't any."  
"I'll see for myself," he snarled. Waving the knife inches from Avon’s face, he forced him up against the wall. Once more Avon felt the cold metal against his face and then hands roughly searching him.

 

"Nothing. Nothing!" the young man blurted out angrily.  
"I did tell you..." Avon stopped short, feeling the tip of the knife pressed to his cheek.  
"I know what you told me!" he spat out nervously. From his appearance and manner, this young man was in desperate need of money. "All right. You look well-heeled. Rich are you? Damn Alpha Grade... Maybe you've got a family. They'd pay - huh... wouldn’t they?”  
“Yes..." `  
He got no further. Suddenly, Avon slammed an elbow into the would-be assailant's midriff, sending him sprawling across the passage. He was shocked at the sudden ferocity of his ‘victim’. As the attack was pressed home, though, two more examples of low-life appeared from the gloom, evidently the owners of the footfalls. They grabbed Avon's arms, and pulled him away; he should have known there'd be others.  
"So," the first attacker murmured, getting to his feet, "you want to play rough, do you?" The knife was replaced by a fist and Avon sank into darkness.

"He's out there, somewhere," Tarrant shouted at the frightened Vila, "and goodness knows what his state of mind is."  
"I said I’m sorry didn't I?" Vila spluttered, "He's capable of looking after himself..."  
"Normally, yes... but you heard Orac."  
Vila sank down onto the bed, head resting on hands, "He won't last a minute out there will he?"  
"No, he won't Vila," Dayna out in, "and we can't advertise him being missing."  
"What do we do?" Vila asked.  
Tarrant rubbed a hand across his face. "We‘ll have to split up, try and find him." He looked at the other two. "Hopefully before that ship is completed." `

A strange face swam into view. Avon blinked, but the face was still there.  
"Are you all right?" the face asked, "Can you stand?"  
"I don’t know," Avon whispered. He hurt all over and there was the taste of blood in his mouth. He turned to look at his saviour, a thin man, his sallow complexion framed by a sparse mop of grey hair.  
"I'll help you. You can’t stay here; a security squad could come at any moment. Those muggers thought that I was one and they ran."  
"Muggers?" Avon muttered, getting to his feet, aided by the man.  
"Oh, yes. They prey on unsuspecting visitors who venture away from the safety zone."  
"Safety zone? I don't..."  
"Never mind about that," he said, supporting Avon's weight, "you come with me."  
"Dayna and I will check the ship."  
"You think Avon's gone back there? What if it's gone?"  
Tarrant threw Vila an exasperated look. "We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it. You Vila, will start checking every single likely establishment, and don’t make it obvious."  
Vila watched Tarrant and Dayna disappear into the crowd, then turned and surveyed the long line of dubious places stretching out before him.  
Would Avon visit such places? There was only one way to find out.  
Vila's good intentions lasted only to the second den of iniquity. His gaze fastened on a group of men, playing a game that revived a memory for the thief. He moved nearer, eagerly watching the speedy progress of the simple looking card game.  
"Want to join in?" a voice enquired.  
"Well, I'm looking for..." Vila trailed off. He had some collateral, a wad of credits taken from the hijacked ship. And, he reasoned, asking for Avon by name would be suicide, for both of them.  
"Well?"  
Vila didn't need bidding twice.

"You know, little lady," Bruner was saying, "it will be some time before the auto-machines get the basic design completed."  
Soolin eyed him, "Are you suggesting we mix business with pleasure?"  
He smiled at her, "You understand me then?”  
"Oh - I do," she replied, smiling back at him. He crossed the carpeted floor, towards her, only to be confronted by Soolin's gun, "Thanks -but, no thanks," she purred. He raised his hands in a gesture of token surrender and returned to his seat, his eyes staring at the screen. The hull was completed, now the superstructure was being constructed.  
"You don't have to stay and keep an eye on me."  
"I'm afraid I have to. You know who we are; what will stop you contacting, let us say, the Federation?"  
"You?"  
"Precisely," she replied sweetly.

Just as Vila had feared, the ship had vanished, but for Tarrant, that was a blessing in disguise, the thief had given them some badly need time. The Federation would, hopefully, be in hot pursuit of the stolen craft, but when caught, it would be discovered that the wanted terrorists weren’t aboard.  
"What now?" Dayna asked, holstering her gun. Tarrant folded his arms, deep in thought, the enormity of the task slowly dawning on him. Time was short, and finding Avon in this sprawling space port would be akin to trying to find a needle in the proverbial haystack.  
"We keep looking. That's all we can do. Broadcasting a missing person's appeal is out of the question."  
Dayna shivered, alert to milling dangers in the compound‘s shadows,"If Avon has taken the ship..."  
"If," Tarrant conceded, "We have Orac though. It may take longer, but with his help, I'm sure we can do everything Avon ever did."  
"I wish I had your confidence," Dayna murmured, beginning to move away back towards the heart of the space port, "You realise, we're stranded?"  
Tarrant nodded. "If the worst comes to the worst and the Federation do get here en masse before Bruner's machines have finished, we can always rely on Vila to obtain another ship, can't we?" he said, indicating the ranks of space-weary vessels, "You start checking the tourist section, Dayna, I'll go and tell Soolin what‘s happened, then I‘ll start on the more dubious areas."  
"All right."  
"Good hunting."

3 FRIEND OR FOE  
The stench in the little man’s room did little to alleviate Avon‘s throbbing headache, and the proffered drink had made him retch, not a very advisable act considering the bruised ribs he possessed.  
The spasm passed, and Avon fell back onto the dirty bunk. Regaining his composure, he regarded the man through half-opened eyes, as he hovered around trying to find various soothing ointments.  
In turn, Vegor was eyeing this stranger, albeit obliquely. He certainly didn't seem to be from this space port, and by his dress, he certainly wasn't one of the poorer classes, most definitely someone from the higher grades. He came across a container of balm; it would have to do.  
Avon watched him come closer.  
"This is all I have," Vegor said, reaching out to put a 'blob' of the obnoxious substance on Avon’s bruised features.  
"Don't," a steel-like hand gripped Vegor’s wrist, "touch me."  
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm only trying to help," Vegor blurted out, taken aback at the sudden reaction. He stepped back, unsure, as Avon swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat up.  
"I understand... they beat you up good. Real experts they were. I can understand you not wanting to be tou..."  
"No, it's not that," Avon whispered, his head reeling, "It's... it's..."  
He looked up at Vegor, unable to explain.  
"Your….err…family could be worrying about you," Vegor pointed out, hoping to change the subject.  
"Family?"  
"All right, your woman then? Look, tell me your name; I can call her, get someone out here..."  
"Name? My name is..." His mind was a complete blank; he hadn’t noticed at first, but now he was aware of a total emptiness.  
Vegor laughed nervously, "You can't remember? Anything?" He watched Avon get to his feet, "Are you sure? Those... those men, they didn't do that good a job; I mean, not to..."  
Avon wasn’t listening, he was trying to focus his thoughts, trying to remember, but there was nothing; just a vast blackness. "I don't know who I am," he said quietly. He caught sight of his reflection in a broken mirror, haphazardly set on the wall, but it did nothing, except cause a deep seated panic to well up.  
"Maybe I can help," Vegor suggested, a sly glint suddenly appearing in his eyes; a glint unseen by the deeply troubled Avon.  
"Help? How?"  
"It means a walk. Can you manage? I mean, you don't exactly seem to be capable of going far."  
"Looks can be deceptive."

  
Tarrant had taken Soolin aside, and was speaking in a low voice, so that Bruner wouldn't hear of their slight difficulty.  
"And if the Federation get here before we find him?" she asked, her blue eyes piercing his, "You can't leave him Tarrant, not after all the trouble you've taken to keep him alive."  
"It's a rat race out there Soolin."  
“So?”  
"In his usual state of mind, Avon could walk over every single lowlife rabble you'd care to throw at him. But, you heard Orac - he's not thinking as he normally does."  
"What's normal for him anyway?"  
Bruner, only catching odd words, interrupted. "Trouble?"  
Tarrant strode over to the desk. "How much longer?" He saw the faint smile, as Bruner leant back in his chair.  
"That’s some ship. I hope you live long enough to enjoy it, although it sounds as though your friend won’t. Has he decided to go walk-about?"  
"I said, how much longer?" he repeated.  
"Another ten hours; at least," Bruner replied with a self-satisfied smirk.  
Tarrant refrained from leaning over and grabbing him by the neck, instead, he turned his attention to Orac, "Orac!"  
"What is it now? This is a most important stage in the operation. Any mistake or miscalculation could be magnified infinitely and render the finished product non-operational."  
"I’m sorry. This is important. What is your evaluation of Avon’s mental condition?"  
"Given the limited information, I would suggest that his mind has refused to acknowledge the enormity of his deed."  
"And?"  
"Amnesia. A not uncommon occurrence in the human species. There are many instances..."  
"All right... Thank you."  
"You have got trouble, haven't you?" Bruner grinned. Tarrant’s temper flared.  
"Shut up!"  
"Tarrant," Soolin said, "he's not worth it."  
"Stay with him Soolin; make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."  
The blonde girl's eyes sparkled as she trained her gun on the suddenly very sure of himself Bruner. "He wouldn’t dream of it - would you?"

Elsewhere, on a stationary spaceship, awaiting further information, Servalan was becoming more and more angry. She spun round, in her luxuriously upholstered chair, eyes blazing, and directing her rage at the uniformed man before her.  
"I find it incredible that the entire Federation Security System cannot locate the most wanted man in the Galaxy."  
"Commissioner," he stated, beginning to become more uncomfortable by the minute, "it is as if he has simply dropped out of existence."  
"Simply? Avon never does anything simply. It has been a month, and during that time, all of Blake‘s people have vanished, including the body of that rebel. You will go back to your computers and try again. They are out there somewhere. I suggest that you are looking in the wrong places."  
"Yes Commissioner," the uniformed man replied, bowing and making a hasty retreat.  
Left alone, Servalan allowed her thoughts to wander. She knew that something was going on; a series of seemingly unconnected incidents precluded that. First, the report of an unidentified craft crashing into the sun; the earth tremor, and then the sudden activity in and around the Federation's borders, notably a small planet known for its hostility, Haven.  
Its inhabitants had proved to be totally uncooperative.  
However, a ship that was reported stolen at the same time as Orac had initiated his escape programme had been reported in the vicinity of the penal colony, designated for the rebel Dayna Mellanby. And, it had subsequently been spotted travelling towards the bustling space port of Hansard III. Despite numerous enquiries, the flight computer had given the correct responses. Yet, when that same ship had left Hansard III, its computer had given anything but the correct information.  
Now, a hot pursuit was taking place, but Servalan knew, instinctively, that her prey wasn't on board. She leant back; no, they were on that backwater space port. While that ship was going to prove a wild goose chase, she knew that who and what she sought were on that space port, and she intended to possess both him and it.

  
For Dayna, wandering round on this man-made stopping-off station, looking for a possibly deranged Avon, was an activity she was desperately trying not to dismiss as a lost cause. She’d lost count of the number of trading establishments and respectable bars she'd visited, all to no avail. Avon wasn't to be found, and time was beginning to run short. Her thoughts returned to Tarrant. As he had said, they had Orac; finding Avon would merely be an added bonus. She tried to recall Tarrant’s face, his expression. Was he inwardly glad that Avon had done to himself, what Tarrant couldn't do, left them and gone and got himself killed, deliberately?  
A sudden hand on her shoulder made her spin round, to come face to face with a man and a woman, both decidedly menacing.  
"Are you looking for someone?" the man asked.  
"We've been following you for some time," the woman continued, "you seem most persistent. Maybe, we could help?"  
"I don't think so," Dayna replied. The man leant against the wall, effectively trapping the dark girl.  
"It's not your brother you're looking for is it... Dayna? Oh, we know who you are... and its Avon you're looking for really?"  
Dayna averted her gaze, reasoning that keeping quiet was the best policy. She watched the woman press her wrist communicator.  
"Kreal - we have struck gold."

It was a small apartment, well away from the endless, streaming ebb of human flotsam.  
The thin, wispy man lightly tapped the door once, then twice, casting a reassuring smile in Avon's direction. By now, Avon's mind had retreated again; it was almost as if his memory had deliberately put up shutters, with the aid of the unprovoked assault. Despite Avon’s assurances to the contrary, the walk had taken it out of him; he was leaning weakly against the wall.  
"Is this the place?"  
"Patience, my friend. In this area, you can't be too choosy. Anyone could be out here, waiting to enter and slit your throat."  
"Friendly neighbourhood," Avon whispered. The door slid aside, Leading the way, the man entered, motioning for Avon to follow. Inside, it was dark, save for a small light sitting on a low table, casting a warm glow.  
"Varlena," the man called softly, "I have someone who requires your help."  
A shadow moved in the endless dark. "Indeed," a small voice said, "Who?"  
The figure moved closer, to be revealed in the light. She was beautiful, but so pale, so delicate, that you'd imagine one puff of wind would blow her away to nothingness.  
"He doesn't know; he was set upon, beaten and his memory... it has gone."  
Varlena looked at Avon, her pale blue eyes drawing him in, "Maybe he has something his mind does not wish to recall?" She remained staring at him, as the man moved round the table and took her aside.  
"I found him," he murmured, "in the sort of place people of his kind don’t go. All he knows is that he was walking; how he got here is a complete blank."  
"And?"  
"He's an off-worlder and he looks to have some wealth. You find out who he is and his family may pay handsomely for his return."  
"Your business sense is wasted here Vegor," she smiled.  
"So," Vegor said, raising his voice, "can you help him?"  
"If I can. You will wait outside Vegor," She caught his worried expression. "I sense he will not harm me."  
"All right." He scuttled out, leaving the two of them alone, staring at each other across the table.  
"Please," she whispered, "be seated. I will fetch refreshment. You must relax. I will be but a minute."  
Grateful for the chance to rest, Avon seated himself on a convenient cushion, as she disappeared into the gloom. He looked after her. What was much a beautiful young girl doing in a place like this, a place, from Avon’s point of view that seemed to contain the dregs of society? He waited patiently, and true to her word, she returned in one minute. She carried a single glass, its sparkling liquid glinting in the light of the solitary lamp.  
"Drink this," she murmured reassuringly. "It will relax you."  
He took the offered glass, eyeing her and then it. Somewhat suspiciously, he downed it. It was sweet and had the strange effect of making his whole being relaxed, exactly as promised. He sank back onto more, sumptuously soft cushions; he hadn't noticed so many, but in this light, who would.  
There was a rustle of movement, but he didn't care, he didn't even notice the firm, yet gentle fingers on his face, but the voice in his mind made him look up, to stare into Varlena’s eyes, faintly smiling.  
"Have no fear. I am only going to break the block; open the doors that have imprisoned your mind, your memory." Her lips didn’t move, but her voice was there; still there; an echo of... of something or... someone.

  
The streams of people making their way to the VIP ship compound intrigued Tarrant. He mingled with a group, all busily voicing their excitement. A high-ranked Federation official was visiting Hansard, a rare, if unique event, his purpose as yet undefined.  
Tarrant silently cursed the gathering throng. Like them, he was interested in just who this visitor was, but for different reasons. He looked for a vantage point, one that would conceal him. He found such a place, a catwalk, high above the compound.  
Within minutes, Tarrant was peering round the corner to view what was happening below. His heart fell as a troop of Federation soldiers marched off the ship and took up position, but another feeling came over him as the person under escort came into view - Servalan.  
Time had run out now. He bit his lip, confused by the emotions building up inside him.  
The memory of those tender moments on Virn was never far away; a heartache he couldn't dispel. And there she was, still as beautiful as then, but the hard veneer of no emotion firmly back in place. Lost in deep thought, Tarrant was unaware of two guards silently creeping up on him; unaware, that is, until a strong arm snaked round his neck and pulled him into the darkness.  
"What have we here? A would-be assassin?" a voice enquired. The arm tightened, effectively constricting his breathing. Tarrant tried to fight off the encroaching black-out, caused by the lack of oxygen. Think! Remember.  
A month of inactivity had dulled his reflexes, just when he needed them.  
Calling on the deep reserves, the dormant memories, he exploded into action. A jab and upper-cut later, and the two men, hindered by their uniforms, were shapeless heaps on the catwalk. But the alarm had already sounded. Retrieving his fallen gun, Tarrant ran onto the catwalk, stopping for a brief few seconds to stare at the amazed Servalan. She silently mouthed his name, then said: "I want him - alive."  
Tarrant tore his eyes away from hers, and bolted. The commotion following him, attracted attention from inquisitive onlookers, all quite willing to point out the wanted man sought by the Federation troopers, He had to find a bolt-hole, and quick.

How long he had been running, he didn’t know, but the darkened corner he'd found himself in, would have to suffice, until he had sorted out his problems.  
Tarrant let his head fall back against the wall. Things were going from bad to worse and the thought of Orac saying 'I told you so’, was not very appealing. Why had he risked life and limb to get Avon out of that infernal cave? Why hadn't he just let him get on with ending it all, as he wanted, with Blake? Why hadn’t Vila stayed awake and stopped Avon leaving; none of this mess would have happened. Why? For the first time, he began to have some inkling as to how Avon's computer-like brain functioned. He would have reasoned out every move, almost as if playing a game of chess.  
One thing Tarrant did know, they had to get out, fast. Avon wouldn't flinch from the idea of having to leave one of their number behind. For Tarrant though, it wasn't so easy.

  
Kreal sat opposite Dayna, his large hands resting on the table. He eyed his two companions, sitting either side of the ebony-skinned girl.  
"I tell you I don't know where he is," Dayna insisted.  
"So you keep saying. I find it hard to believe, though, that a man such as Avon, should simply leave the company of his friends. You said there was some doubt as to his mental state?"  
"Did I?"  
"Don't play games with me, girl. You alone, are worth a sizeable reward but it’s nothing compared to the price asked for Avon. I only need you to bring him out into the open."  
"It won't work," Dayna said levelly, "You're not dealing with just another criminal."  
"No? Tell me then, who am I dealing with?"  
"An insane psychopath, who just possibly doesn't know who he is," she replied, "You two could really hit it off."  
Kreal restrained himself from slapping Dayna's face, just, "You don’t like him, do you Dayna? Do any of the others?"  
"Liking him doesn't enter into it. He's one of us, and we are looking…”  
"So, you're not alone? It‘s even better than I thought."  
Dayna cursed silently, but not once did her mind stop working at a method of escape. Not here though. The bar was too noisy, too rowdy. She'd never make it to the exit.  
"I suppose the others are looking for Avon too? Have you any way or contacting them? Or do you know their whereabouts?"  
"I wouldn't tell you, even if I did."  
Kreal’s eyes blazed with fury, "We'll soon know about that, young lady, my two friends are experts at extracting information."  
"Wouldn't screaming draw too much attention?" Dayna asked, hoping that Kreal would agree and decide to leave for much more suitable, secluded surroundings. She sighed, inwardly, with relief as Kreal realised the validity of her statement.  
They left the claustrophobic bar, and made their way along the walkway.  
Suddenly Dayna stopped in her tracks. A fleeting expression of recognition crossed her face.  
"Who have you seen?" the woman demanded.  
"I...," Dayna stuttered, feeling the two loosen their grip. She spotted a likely looking man and broke free, rushing over to the slightly bewildered centre of her attention.  
"Tarrant, they know..."  
"What in hell...?" the man shouted, roughly removing her arms from around his neck. In a second, Dayna had vanished, swallowed up by the crowd, leaving three very red-faced bounty-hunters to explain the situation to one very angry man.

Avon's self-imposed rigid control was proving difficult to penetrate.  
His mind had resolutely refused to open up and reveal the recent memories that had caused his memory loss. But now, a chink was beginning to appear in the blackness. Faint memories of childhood revealed nothing, but then slowly, the dark, all-encompassing mist began to clear.  
There was a man, speaking, but no sound. He had a gun...  
He was running, clutching his searing arm, then nothing. It cleared again. He was in a room, 'Cygnus Alpha — life', a voice uttered. Then a holding cell. He recognised the ship -the 'London‘. He was seated at a table surrounded by meaningless chatter, but someone was there, a man whose face he couldn't quite see...  
The Liberator, and... Cally... Jenna... Gan... and Blake!  
"Don't fight it," Varlena was saying, "do not deny your past."  
A whole montage of memories marched past, each one bringing a sharp recollection back. Then it darkened, again Varlena's soothing tones urged him to allow his memories emerge.  
He was in a cellar, holding a young, dead woman. It brought back pain; pain he'd fought so hard to suppress. Then he found himself on Terminal, hearing a voice screaming out ‘Blake...' and then, he was on Gauda Prime, in the control room, facing that man. "Avon, it’s me, Blake. I've been waiting for you."  
He sat up with a start, shaking. He remembered now; the whole nightmare. Every word. Every action. And the bloodied form of Blake, lying at his feet.  
Avon stood up, looking for Varlena. She was standing against the far wall, almost as if she didn't want him to see her. Avon stepped forward, only to be stopped by Varlena's stabbing finger.  
"It’s you... you‘re the one. The man who killed Blake."  
Avon nodded.  
"There are many who seek to avenge his death."  
"I know," Avon murmured resignedly. Varlena regained her composure and almost glided over to him.  
"I can see why your mind closed itself against that. But what you did was not malicious, you didn't understand."  
There was a flicker of agreement in Avon's dark eyes, "Will others understand though? To all those who looked towards Blake for inspiration, I am a marked man, a callous killer, who murdered an unarmed man." He turned away, and sat down again, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands, "It was like killing my own brother, but I couldn’t stop myself..."  
He felt a reassuring hand lightly touch his shoulder  
"Would you like to talk? It does help, and I can sense that you've had little opportunity to do so," Varlena began.  
He looked up, as she quietly seated herself opposite, the soft glow illuminating her pale, fragile features.  
"You have known a telepath before? You were most receptive. Others fight the intrusion, but not you."  
"Oh yes, I’ve known a telepath," he said softly, as memories of Cally came back, fond memories, "How do you put your ability to good use, here in this place?"  
She smiled slightly. "A side show, amongst other things."  
"Oh..."  
"I can help people relive moments of their lives. I reach into their minds, as I did yours. It‘s a living, just."  
"That man; he seemed concerned for your safety. I wonder why?"  
Varlena coloured slightly. "Are we to discuss me or you?" Avon's eyes met hers; she lowered her voice, as if embarrassed, "He procures... clients for me. I cannot do this as I am sensitive to light. To go beyond this room would cause me great pain.”  
"I see."  
"Your mind closed against your memories, because they caused you pain. In effect, we are both prisoners of our condition. You are strong enough though, to be able to live with the burden of your conscience. Blake was a great man, and you admired him - trusted him- yet you deny those feelings. Why? Is it because... they scare you?"  
Avon didn’t answer, but he knew that could be part of it. He decided to change the subject, discussing his deep inner feelings was not to his liking, "Have you a computer terminal?"  
She pointed and watched him get up. From her brief contact, she knew him to be a man in conflict with himself, a turmoil of emotions, all adding to the burden he now carried.  
For Avon, now busy at the key panel, it was a strange sensation having a complete stranger party to his innermost thoughts; at least they were safe with her, at least he hoped so.

  
Servalan's suspicions had proved to be founded, they were on Hansard, Tarrant at least. It was a sure fire bet that the others were too. If her guards could catch Tarrant, then the rest would be so simple. A Troop Captain entered the room, and saluted. "Commissioner. There is someone who claims to know the whereabouts of a terrorist who may be of interest to you. He insists on seeing you."  
"Bring him in, Captain."  
The small man scuttled in, keeping a wary eye on the Captain's drawn gun.  
"Well?” Servalan asked.  
He didn't seem to be the least bit worried about the authority exuded by the woman seated before him, for he knew he had something that she wanted. "I understand you are looking for a Kerr Avon."  
Servalan tried to hide her sudden interest, but failed.  
"I know where he is."  
"You know his exact location?" Servalan enquired, resting her exquisitely structured chin on an elegant hand.  
"Indeed I do, but I'm not saying anything 'til I get my money."  
She considered that statement, and leant back, smiling, "Of course. What proof do you have that it is indeed, Kerr Avon?"  
"You are here... It’s all over the port that you are looking for the remnants of Blake’s group. I have a friend who at this moment is with a man who answers the widely known description of Kerr Avon."  
"I wouldn't say that was proof," Servalan purred, about to dismiss him, "There are many men on this space port who answer his description; I know because I've sent numerous squads to investigate each claim. Why should I believe you?"  
Vegor pulled away from the advancing guard. "You must listen. I found this man, unconscious in a desolate part of this spaceport. He didn't know who he was, so I took him to a friend. He's there now. She's a telepath and she managed to break through into his mind. His name is Avon... What else do you need?"  
"Your story sounds so implausible that I am willing to send some of my men with you."  
"And the money?"  
Servalan smiled, a very cold smile, "You will be paid after the arrest of this... Avon."  
"All right, it's a deal." Vegor returned the smile and quickly left the room. The uniformed man was about to follow.  
"Captain," Servalan said.  
"Yes Commissioner?"  
"You will see that he receives his payment, won't you?"  
"Of course, Commissioner." `  
Servalan caressed the arms of her chair, inwardly self-satisfied. If it was Avon, then soon, very soon, she would have him, and, this time, there would be no escape.

The green glow emitted from the screen, reflected on Avon's face as he keyed in a simple message. Within seconds, an answer flashed before his eyes; Orac... and not too far away. He switched off the terminal, only to stiffen as he felt a gun pressed into the small of his back.  
"Don’t do anything stupid, Avon."  
"Varlena..."  
"You'll be my passport off this hell-hole. The reward for you is..."  
“Is death," Avon whispered, "The Federation make no deals. They take what they want and they don't pay for it."  
Varlena stepped back, allowing Avon to turn round, his hands slightly raised. In the gloom he could see her pale features, taut and determined.  
"I telepathed Vegor and told him who you were. It was academic to fetch the Federation. I know that the woman called Sleer is offering a great deal of money for you, dead or alive."  
"Preferably alive, knowing her."  
"And you do know her, don't you? And well. How could you betray your friends? You and she are enemies, but what you feel for her is anything but hate. "  
"That was true," Avon agreed, his eyes firmly fixed on the weapon aimed at his stomach. "But not even that can survive what she's done to me. Not now."  
"They are nearly here," Varlena said, momentarily looking towards the door.  
In that instant, Avon realised this was his only chance; escape or suffer agonies at the hands of Servalan's sadistic interrogators. With a lightening movement, Avon grabbed Varlena's hand, attempting to wrest the gun from her grip. In the ensuring struggle, the single source of light fell to the floor, enveloping the room in complete darkness. There was a small muffled explosion and Avon felt Varlena go limp in his arms.  
A sigh left her, but not from her lips, but from her mind. It echoed in his mind, a strange, mocking sound.  
"There must be another way out..." he began.  
"No..." a rasping voice replied. Then images began to swirl in Avon's mind, images that she knew would hurt him. Desperately trying to ignore them, he asked her again.  
"Where is the exit? Tell me - now" His voice hardened. "You know it's futile; they'll kill you anyway, as they will ultimately me. I'll ask you again... there must be another way out; where is it?"  
A weak hand pointed, but with her last flicker of life she still infiltrated his consciousness; a vivid, horrific image of Blake's final moments erupted in his brain, but then she was still.  
Shaking violently, Avon got to his feet, holding the blood covered gun in his hand. For a moment, he stared at it, and then, in an uncharacteristic angry outburst, he threw the weapon at an unseen target. It clattered noisily against the far wall.  
He stood rooted to the spot staring ahead at something visible only to his eyes; Blake; his body ripped open, reaching out helplessly to Avon, the powerful gun still smoking. Since that time on Gauda Prime, the thought of actually having to use a gun again had haunted him. Even in that cave, on Earth, the sheer thought of pulling the trigger, this time on himself, had rendered him unable to do so, but now, that insurmountable obstacle had been overcome; at the loss of a young woman’s life. He looked down at her; what had she said? They are near?  
He retrieved the gun, a difficult feat in the dark. He felt his way along the wall, until he reached the spot she'd pointed at. A panel depressed under his searching fingers, and a door slid open.  
Before he slipped through to the beckoning passage beyond, he turned as someone rapped on the entrance. Vegor's wavering voice came.  
"Varlena. Is it over? Can I come in?"  
Outside, the squad Captain was growing increasingly impatient. Pushing Vegor roughly aside, he blasted the door with his gun. Once inside, he ordered the light activated much to Vegor’s horror.  
"No, she is sensitive..." He stopped as the light revealed Varlena, dead, "Oh... no."  
The troopers searched the compartment; there was no one else there.  
"I tell you, it was him. He was here."  
"Don't waste the Commissioner‘s time again," the Captain snapped, and ordered his men out.  
Left alone, Vegor stared down at the still, bloody body, almost unable to comprehend what had happened. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar steely voice.  
"You asked Varlena if it was over?"  
He hardly dared look up, but he forced himself to. He met Avon's dark, impassive eyes, reading what was in them, with a certain dread.  
"For you," Avon continued, "it is."  
Vegor backed away, his eyes widening as the gun came up to point at him. "No!"

4 BLAKE  
Vila casually eyed his opponents over the fanned out cards in his hand. Just to put them off their guard, he’d deliberately lost a few games, but now, at the centre of the table, was a veritable fortune. He tried desperately to contain his excitement. Avon, he thought would make a great player; well no one would ever guess what he had.  
He was about to make a grand slam finish when Tarrant's urgent voice made him jump and sent the cards flying off in all directions.  
"What do you think you're doing?" Tarrant snarled, gripping Vila‘s shoulder.  
"Well two seconds ago I was about to..."  
"That’s not what I meant."  
"Excuse me," Vila grinned sheepishly at the angry players, as Tarrant hauled him away and out into the darkened walkway.  
"This whole place is crawling with Federation guards. Avon's out there lost, and you're playing... playing... oh, forget it."  
"What was I supposed to do Tarrant? I was attempting to get information without telling the entire Universe that its most wanted man is wandering around just asking to be picked up. Were you seriously expecting me to ask for Avon by name? That's one way to get yourself killed for certain. I was hoping to overhear conversations or something."  
“And?”  
"And nothing. No talk of strangers… nothing," Vila sighed, but then visibly brightened, "I nearly made a killing though."  
"That’s it then," Tarrant murmured, oblivious to Vila’s quizzical look, "We can't afford to wait. Let's find Dayna."  
"And then?" But Tarrant was off, leaving Vila with the most frightening thoughts, "Leave him? Leave him?!" Vila cried out, running after the young man and catching him. They made a strange sight in the crowded thoroughfare; Vila almost white, Tarrant decidedly determined.  
"You can’t," Vila urged, "not after all you went through."  
"You sound just like Soolin now. For all I know, he could be dead."  
"What happened to all the fine words? The heroic deeds? You stopped him killing himself and now you're signing his death warrant."  
"Maybe, but it's us or him."  
"Now you're sounding like Avon," Vila said, suddenly shivering as Tarrant smiled at him.  
“Am I?”

Soolin's patience was beginning to fray, and Bruner's stare was starting to grate. She was still alert, though, and had her sights on the office door, the moment it opened. It was a mixture of surprise and relief that swept over her when she saw who it was.  
"Avon! We've been worried..."  
He brushed aside her comments, and walked over to Orac. "Status?"  
"Incomplete, but the ship is capable of flight. It will require extensive work to bring it up to fully operational standards."  
"Can you monitor computer control off station?"  
"Of course."  
Bruner swallowed, "You're not seriously contemplating taking that ship as it is?" Avon looked at him with a bored expression. "It can fly, but for now long? You heard that... that machine. It needs extensive work. You must be mad." The small man felt a sudden chill as the dark eyes narrowed.  
"I’ll bear that in mind," Avon said, reaching for the nearby terminal and punching in several instructions.  
"Hey!" Bruner yelled, "you can‘t. That’s the design memory..."  
"Shut him up, Soolin."  
"You heard the man, Bruner," Soolin smiled sweetly. He sank back in his upholstered chair, watching as Avon punched in yet more instructions. It seemed strange, but it was almost as if he had had a rapport with the computer, or so it appeared to Bruner, who sat motionless, not daring to incur the wrath of this man, whose whole being exuded authority, unlike the young Tarrant. Whereas Bruner had felt confident in casting caustic comments at the curly haired pilot, he was scared of the black suited figure before him. Not once did this man blink, not once did his features flicker, he was so involved. Then minutes later, he'd finished.  
"Take Orac, Soolin, and go to the dock.”  
"And our friend here?" she enquired, watching Bruner pale.  
"I’ll take care of him."

Soolin stood awestruck in the gigantic construction dock, staring at the ship. She was so engrossed, she failed to register Avon’s presence.  
"Our friend will have a headache when he wakes up," he murmured, then noticed Soolin's concerned look, "Don't worry, I didn’t hit him too hard."  
"But what about you, Avon? What happened?"  
"Time for explanations later. So, this is what Orac has built."  
Hands on hips, Avon surveyed the vessel. Small maintenance machines hovered around the craft, putting the final touches to it.  
It was bigger than Scorpio, but similar to that old hulk. Smaller than the Liberator, it still retained some of that ship’s lines. Mounted on each side were nacelles, each bristling with blasters, and at the stern was the as yet unconnected Star drive engine.  
"Orac's done a good job," Avon admitted.  
"So has Tarrant," Soolin added, "While you were... resting, they decided between them how it should look."  
"I see..." he said, and strode off towards the connecting passage leading on board, with Soolin, still carrying Orac, close behind.

Dayna saw Tarrant and Vila wending their way through the crowds, towards her. She stepped out of the shadows as they neared.  
"Well?" Tarrant asked.  
"He could be anywhere Tarrant. This whole place is crawling with Federation guards and bounty hunters. I've just managed to get away from some."  
"Did they hurt you?"  
"No," Dayna replied, "They wanted to use me to get Avon."  
"This isn't a very healthy place to be," Vila decided, glancing at the milling crowds, convinced each of them was a bounty hunter.  
Tarrant nodded in agreement. "Let's get Orac and Soolin, and get the hell out of here."  
Dayna turned to Vila in sheer disbelief, "He's suggesting we leave Avon?"  
"He reckons that having Orac is enough. Mind you, when I mentioned the point that only Avon knows how to repair that useless collection of junk he wouldn't listen. No one ever does, you know. Not to me."  
She obviously was though, "Is he serious?"  
"Oh yes," Vila sighed, watching the young pilot stride off, "I’m afraid he is."

The flight deck was spacious, the forward section consisting of five consoles, but only two directly concerned with the main screen. Off to one side was a semi-circular chamber, obviously intended for the teleport. The remainder of the deck was occupied by a rest area, comfortable but spartan.  
Soolin placed Orac on a nearby console, her attention still centred on Avon, who was now seated in the pilot‘s position, casting his eyes over the instruments. She noticed as he slumped back in the seat.  
"Something wrong?" she asked, standing next to him.  
"You could say that. Tarrant's made sure I can't take this ship anywhere, not without a great deal of help. Only a skilled pilot could fly this ship alone."  
"And you're not a skilled pilot, are you?" Her question was answered by a dazzling smile.  
"With help... l could."  
"I don't like what you're suggesting Avon."  
“No?”  
"Leave Tarrant and the others?"  
"You and l..."  
"Whatever happened to you on this space port did more than damage your face," Soolin snapped, stalking away. Avon was on his feet, grabbing her by the wrist.  
"Let go of me Avon," she hissed, staring unflinchingly into his dark eyes.  
"All right...," he released her, his eyes still firmly fixed on hers, "Do you think for one moment that Tarrant won’t be considering the exact same thing? He thinks I’m still missing; the Federation are closing in... Oh I’ll admit he'll have a few pangs of conscience..."  
"Avon, it was Tarrant who rescued you in the first place. If he‘d even thought like that, he'd never have risked his life... would he?"  
"Wouldn't he? Tarrant was partly responsible for me killing Blake I've an idea that his heroic deed was a way to redeem himself in his eyes and yours. By stopping me from committing suicide, he's made damn sure that all of you look up to him."  
"What Tarrant did was an act of friendship, loyalty. He... we all happen to care for you, but you're so blinded by stubbornness, you can‘t see it.”  
"I wish I could believe that."

Tarrant's heart had missed a beat when he'd seen that Orac had vanished and Bruner was sprawled across his desk, the jewels spread out beneath his outstretched hand.  
"We're too late," Vila cried, "The Federation have been here."  
"Vila," Tarrant said, trying to control himself, "don't start your cowardly whining with me. This is Avon’s doing, and you'd better start praying that he hasn’t gone and left us."  
Dayna thought it ironic that only moments ago Tarrant was considering doing the same to Avon, but she kept that comment to herself.  
They reached the construction dock each secretly relieved to find the ship still there. Tarrant was the first to arrive on the flight deck, and stopped dead when he saw Soolin and Avon. He wasn't too sure what to make of the scene, but the look he exchanged with Avon was one of utter disappointment.  
"So glad you could make it Tarrant," Avon remarked.  
"Everyone to positions," Tarrant ordered, "unless, of course, you have any objections, Avon?"  
“None.”  
When the situation called for it, the two men were capable of working like a finely oiled machine, and this was such a situation.  
Tarrant strapped himself in. "This may be a bit bumpy, everyone."  
"Isn’t it always?" Vila muttered, holding Orac firmly on his lap.  
"Power cells fully charged," Avon stated, snapping down a long array of small switches. The whole ship began to hum, as its systems came alive.  
Tarrant ran his expert eyes over the instruments before him. "I'll have to take her out on manual," he murmured, "Retract umbilical cords."  
"Check," Avon countered.  
"Main dock gates opening."  
"Check."  
"Hold tight. We're without Star Drive and weaponry systems, which means we are easy prey for any Federation ships in the vicinity."  
Slowly, the ship left the holding bay, edging forward, pushing aside the small automated drones still working on the hull. The Star field grew larger, encompassing the forward screen, until the ship was clear and out into space.  
"We've got company," Avon announced, "Two Federation battleships on the Port side."  
"I see them," Tarrant affirmed.  
"But have they seen us?" Dayna asked.

  
They had.  
The commanders of both ships barked orders to their ships' companies the moment the craft appeared. Despite constant demands for identification, it remained defiantly silent, moving slowly across the Federation screens, making an inviting target.  
All weapon systems were locked on, the plasma bolts heading for their destination with deadly accuracy.

Aboard the new ship, Tarrant was relishing the one-sided battle, a feeling not shared by Vila, especially as the young pilot began to put the ship through a series of evasive manoeuvres designed to elude the oncoming bolts.  
"We don‘t all want to die, Tarrant. So why don't you just put your foot down and get us out of here?"  
“That’s the first sensible thing you've said, Vila," Dayna cried, echoing his sentiments.  
"Do you think this is deliberate?" Tarrant asked, catching sight of yet more Federation ships. "She's too sluggish. I need more power."  
"Diverting secondary power – now!" Avon snapped.  
The ship juddered, then surged forward.  
"Where did you get that secondary power from?" enquired Tarrant, relieved to feel the controls respond.  
"Life support," Avon replied curtly, aware of the horrified looks aimed his way.  
"Terrific," Soolin murmured. "If they don’t get us, the air will."  
Tarrant flew the ship as if it were second nature, flying circles round the ponderous vessels of the Federation battle fleet, then veering off into open space, when several pursuit vessels came on the scene.

From her temporary 'office', Servalan witnessed the drama as it unfolded on the video screen. One part of her willed the ship to be blown out of existence. The other hoped that, somehow, the two men on board would escape, although she knew one of them would return with the firm intention of killing her. With mounting incredulity, she watched as the ship banked, swerved and missed every missile fired at it, until it sped away, the pursuit ships following.  
"I want that ship caught, but if necessary, I want it destroyed," Servalan said evenly to the Captain by her side. "And the man responsible for constructing it will be arrested at once."  
"Yes Commissioner," he replied tersely and saluted before leaving.  
Another man stepped forward from out of the shadows, hands interlocked behind his back.  
"Not a very notable performance, Commissioner," he said, peering at her through his rimless glasses, "The last of Blake’s rebels, cornered and yet able to effect an escape. Can you explain?"  
"I am surrounded by totally incompetent men, and they," she explained, pointing a long elegantly manicured finger at the receding image, "are not. That is how they have escaped time and time again."  
"Our Federation troops are highly trained, to put blame on them is to criticise the system. Other rebels have succumbed, and yet they have eluded you, repeatedly."  
"Are you inferring that I have let them go deliberately?" Servalan asked, seating herself.  
"This view has been aired by High Command on several occasions."  
"The High Command is mistaken. We are not dealing with an ordinary rebel group, we are dealing with Blake's closest companions; two of them anyway. They are not a band of ill-equipped terrorists; they are the best in their field, geniuses in fact. “  
"Ah yes. I have read the records Commissioner,” He turned away from the screen and faced her, “The future is of paramount concern now. The various rebel cells are in disarray, and demoralised since Blake's murder. Will they not find renewed inspiration if those geniuses escape?"  
"You forget," Servalan smiled, "the very instrument of Blake's demise is aboard that ship. He is not only wanted by us, but undoubtedly, by those who have for so long tried to destroy the Federation. His only friends, the only people he can trust, are all that stand between him and certain death, not a very envious position to be in. It is my belief that Avon will attempt some spectacular action to prove his intention of continuing Blake's cause."  
"I see. Then increased security at all key positions will thwart him?"  
"Precisely. How long can he or his companions survive with two forces intent on destroying them?"  
"An interesting question, one I shall await with interest an answer to," the beady-eyed man remarked, "I will report to High Command, and, they undoubtedly, will look forward to seeing a positive conclusion to this unfortunate affair."  
"Naturally," Servalan replied.  
"Somehow, though, I can't see that happening," He indicated the screen, on which the chase was now occurring in another sector, "Whoever is piloting that ship is good, very good."  
"So he should be," Servalan pointed out, "he was trained as a Federation Space Captain. His name is Tarrant, Del Tarrant."  
"Tarrant?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.  
"I thought," she whispered, "you'd read the records."

Vila had his eyes firmly shut and his arms tightly wrapped round Orac, because it was happening again; his own escape route, the one that had so conveniently arrived when he was aboard his ’prison' ship, was now providing a much needed way out for all of them; a meteor storm.  
Without computer guidance systems, Tarrant was flying by his own skill, calling upon every last ounce of concentration. Going through his mind, was the simulation he'd once taken part in, but this was real; not an examination; if he made one mistake, it would be his last.  
On his own screen, Avon was witnessing events behind, noting with cold impassiveness each ship as it met its fate. Occasionally, he allowed himself a sidelong glance at the young pilot, but didn‘t say anything; to do no would cause a catastrophe. He knew, too, that this dazzling display had now gone beyond necessity. It was purely for his benefit. Tarrant was letting him know, that he couldn't do without a first-class pilot - not yet anyway.  
Both Soolin and Dayna breathed a sigh of relief when the ship cleared the storm. Their screens showed clear, yet Tarrant was still flying at full speed.  
"Tarrant," Vila eventually said, "I don’t want to spoil your own private party, but that's our life support you’re playing with."  
"Don't worry Vila, I haven't forgotten," he answered, directing a wide grin at Avon, "All we need now is a nice, quiet planet."

  
Tal Bruner shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and rid him of a throbbing headache. There was one consolation for all he'd been through though, the blueprints for the most advanced spacecraft ever built, were contained in his computer's memory banks. The Federation would be more than grateful for those.  
He eagerly pressed the retrieve key, hardly able to contain himself, but him excitement turned to horror.  
"No... no!” he gasped, reeling back from the master-computer, "It can’t be." But it was. The entire memory bank was wiped clean. Even before his eyes the vital information regarding the ship‘s construction vanished.  
That was what Avon had been doing, making sure that any attempt to retrieve the blueprints would result in their instant destruction.  
Bruner reached for the glittering jewels. At least he had one way to get off this space port. Grabbing them, he ran for the door, only to be greeted by a squad of black uniformed men. Their Captain stepped forward.  
"Going somewhere?"

Hanging in space above a deserted planet, the new ship was safe from the probing scanners of any Federation scout ships and in a perfect position for, if necessary, a quick getaway. Dayna, with Vila’s dubious help had brought all the complex weaponry systems on line, and was now programming the target and guidance systems. Vila’s next call was the food and drink dispensers, and he was having some difficulty in getting the drink dispenser to serve up a tasteful wine. He was momentarily distracted by Avon's arrival on the flight deck.  
"I’m sure you'll be pleased to know that Tarrant and I have installed the Star Drive."  
"Normally, I'd offer you a drink in appreciation," Vila said, "unfortunately, I can't. Maybe in a few more hours?"  
"Maybe."  
Tarrant, for his part, was wandering round the bowels of the ship checking for any stress faults. Thankfully, there were none. He straightened, gradually becoming aware that he wasn‘t alone. Soolin came into view, seemingly deep in thought.  
"You look worried Soolin."  
"Do I? I think we all should be. Has Avon told you what happened to him on Hansard?"  
"No. We were too busy with the Star Drive. Is it important?"  
"He’s planning something, Tarrant."  
"Planning something?" he murmured, "I'd like to know what he was planning with you before we arrived."  
"What are you getting at?" she asked, turning on him.  
"Back on Hansard, was he planning for just you and him to get away? You’d make a good couple you know. There's no need to be shy, Soolin. Avon can be very persuasive, when it suits him."  
"What if he was? You had made sure he couldn't fly it anyway."  
"True," Tarrant agreed, recalling that built-in safety feature, "But we have to discuss our future. Our little experience back there made me think. It's going to be like that from now on, hunted, betrayed, never knowing who our friends are."  
"Tarrant, we can’t leave Avon now. He won‘t admit it, but he needs us, for the moment."  
"For the moment, and then, he can dispose of us, whenever he wants." Tarrant sighed, "Right now, though, I could do with some sleep."  
"And Avon? He’s working on the teleport now you know? But he needs sleep, more than any of us."  
"I’m sure Avon would be touched by your concern for his wellbeing. But he won’t appreciate that you care, because he doesn't," Tarrant placed his hands on Soolin’s shoulders, "You see, Avon stopped caring for anyone a long time ago. Ever since Anna and Cally in fact. He has nothing now, nothing but his work."  
"Do you honestly believe that Tarrant?" ‘

"Avon, you’ve got to eat."  
Avon slowly turned round to face Vila, "Really? When I‘ve finished this."  
"Listen," Vila continued, despite Avon‘s apparent disinterest, "you can't go on without eating something."  
"Does your dispenser need my seal of approval?"  
"Be sensible... and don‘t think I haven't noticed those stimulants you've been downing."  
He stopped what he was doing and glared at Vila. "And what has that to do with you?"  
“The human body can only take so much."  
"He’s right," Dayna put in.  
"Why this sudden interest in my welfare?" Avon asked, looking from one to the other.  
"You haven't eaten anything since we left Haven. Lack of nourishment, too many drugs... they can all have a diverse effect," Dayna added.  
"That," he said, "is my concern," returning to the teleport to make a few final adjustments.  
"If you refuse to eat something, I’ll force feed you," Vila stated.  
Avon allowed himself a smile and turned to face both of them, "You and who else?"  
"Me!" Tarrant’s voice echoed round the flight deck. His defiant tone frightening Vila almost as much as Avon's cold look. He conceded defeat.  
"If you insist."  
"And then, we all get some sleep... that‘s if no one has any objection of course?"

The planet's sun rose, casting its rays over the geo-stationary ship, bathing it in a soft red sheen. It reminded Avon of the many sunrises he had witnessed on Earth, the yellow-orange orb of Sol fighting its way through layers of atmosphere. Here, though, there was no dense atmosphere to dim this sun's beauty.  
He sat back, staring at the view-screen almost filled by the iridescent light, wondering how many more suns he would see rising over how many more nameless planets. For Blake, though, the simple pleasure of seeing one of nature's wonders was over. Sealed in a featureless cryogenic chamber, in an unreachable cavern, he awaited his 'Cause' to triumph and his body to be discovered by the rebellion’s victors.  
Avon shut down the screen, denying himself that reassuring view, just as Blake was denied it. He checked the now fully operational scanners, nothing. Space was quiet and tranquil, but for how long?  
After he'd relieved Dayna, much to her surprise, he'd set about finishing the ship's circuits, now it was complete, ready to face any new challenges. He got to his feet and began a slow walk round the flight deck, checking each console, satisfied that the much needed sleep he wanted, would come.  
It was so quiet, with only the background hum breaking the silence, and he was alone, with only his thoughts for company.  
"Would you be proud of me now, Blake?" he asked the seat behind the console, “In your own way, no doubt. You trusted me Blake, and you taught me to trust. And I did. Stupid really, going against my instincts. This mess would never have happened you know. That's the problem, we can’t erase it and start again. Maybe that was our fate from the moment we met, who knows. I'd spent two years saving your life, risking mine more often than I ever thought was possible, and then I killed you. Still at least it was a friend, and not some grubby Federation guard." He smiled, "At least we kept it in the family." For a moment it seemed as though Blake was sitting in that seat, looking as he did when Avon had last seen him on the Liberator. He dismissed it, after all, he didn't believe in ghosts.  
The flight deck door slid open and Vila entered. "Oh, you’re up “  
"I never went to sleep, Vila." Avon watched him make for the dispenser; as predictable as ever.  
“Credit for them?” asked Vila, sitting down and starting to eat, "You’re thoughts- it's an old Earth saying," he explained.  
“Is it?”  
“When Tarrant finds out you’ve been doing all this, he’ll…”  
"He’ll not say anything. I've let him have his head for the last few days, because our usual clashes could have spelt disaster.”  
“You should be grateful. It was Tarrant who got you out of that cave."  
"So I keep being reminded. He may come to regret it though."  
Vila shivered. Hadn't Orac said something like that?  
The strained atmosphere was relieved by Tarrant, Soolin and Dayna entering.  
"There you are, Avon," Tarrant said, "We wondered where you‘d got to."  
He noticed the activated instruments, "You have been busy."  
Avon met his eyes, "Indeed I have." He waited until they had all sat down, "Time is short. According to Orac‘s scan of Federation communications, all major installations are under increased security, if not already, they are about to be. There are also some indications that several of Blake‘s followers have regrouped, with the avowed intention of exacting revenge for Blake's death." '  
"What’s that to do with us?" Dayna queried, already guessing the answer.  
"I am their target and you may just get in the way."  
"Oh very nice," said Vila. `  
"What are you planning Avon?" Soolin asked.  
"You should know better than that, Soolin," Tarrant grinned, "Since when has Avon ever told us what he's up to?"  
Avon ignored the remark. He took a deep breath, and walked round the console. "I intend to strike the Federation hard; hard enough for the tremors to be felt all the way back to Earth. It will give notice that Blake's crusade is not dead, that somehow it will continue. It's the least I can do."  
"Very noble," Tarrant admitted, standing up, "Of course, it's got nothing to do with alleviating any threats to your life?"  
"Astute as ever Tarrant," Avon said, "And then, there is the question of Servalan. If destroying her means I complete Blake’s dream, then all well and good."  
"Avon," Dayna started, "you're not the only one with a vested interest in Servalan's death."  
"I am the only one with Blake's death on my conscience, and as she was responsible for that, then she‘s mine." Avon could sense the growing hostility on the flight deck, and noticed that only Vila was still seated.  
"Where do we fit in with your scheme?" Tarrant demanded to know.  
"You might just destroy us," Dayna pointed out.  
"Go out in a blaze of glory by all means, Avon, but don‘t forget us,” Soolin added.  
Avon looked at the trio, then turned away. “This is my ship, and what I have to do is my own business."  
"Your ship?!" Tarrant gasped.  
"I‘ve decided the most fitting name is Blake. He may be dead, but his name will live on."  
"Now wait a minute," Tarrant hissed.  
"I take it you don‘t agree."  
"You‘re damn right I don't,” the young man replied, "not with any of this suicidal scheme."  
"That's a pity, Tarrant," Avon said, spinning round, catching him unawares with a blow to his jaw. Tarrant reeled, and crashed to the deck at Soolin and Dayna's feet.  
"Let me remind you, Tarrant," he snarled, "nothing has changed.”  
Tarrant propped himself up on his elbow, wiping the trickle of blood away from the corner of his mouth, with the back of his hand.  
He watched Avon stride towards the exit, and then stop, as if suddenly remembering something. He turned to face the still shocked ensemble.  
"If any of you wish to leave, you are free to do so. I won't try and stop you." With that he walked off the flight deck.  
All eyes turned to Vila, who was still sitting, but seemed faintly pale.  
"You look as though you’ve seen a ghost," Dayna said.  
Vila faced her, "Not seen a ghost, heard one."  
Soolin stared at him, as did Tarrant, who by now was on his feet.  
"What do you mean?" the blonde girl asked.  
He wasn't sure, but he knew a faint memory had been rekindled.  
"Well?” Tarrant insisted.  
Vila swallowed, "That‘s near enough what Blake said to Avon when this whole thing started.”

 

"’TIS ALL A CHEQUER BOARD OF NIGHTS AND DAYS  
WHERE DESTINY WITH MEN FOR PIECES PLAYS.  
HITHER AND THITHER MOVES, AND MATES, AND SLAYS,  
AND ONE BY ONE BACK IN THE CLOSET LAYS."  
(Edward Fitzgerald)


End file.
